Every day is a fresh beginning; Listen my soul, to the glad refrain, And in spite of old sorrow… and possible pain, Take heart with the day and begin again.

Softly drops the crimson sun: Softly down from overhead, Drop the bell-notes, one by one, Melting in the melting red.

Ah, the pretty whisperers! It was very well When the leaves were thick and green, awhile ago-- Leaves are secret-keepers; but since the last leaf fell There is nothing hidden from the eyes below.

Every tear is answered by a blossom, Every sigh with songs and laughter blent, April-blooms upon the breezes toss them. April knows her own, and is content.

Every day is a fresh beginning; Listen my soul, to the glad refrain, And in spite of old sorrow… and possible pain, Take heart with the day and begin again.

Every day is a fresh beginning. Every morn is the world made anew.

To-morrow I will begin, thought Katy, as she dropped asleep that night. How often we all do so! And what a pity it is that when morning comes and to-morrow is to-day, we so frequently wake up feeling quite differently; careless or impatient, and not a bit inclined to do the fine things we planned overnight.